


Hannibal's Overslept!

by TheCourtJester485



Series: Hannigraham One-shots! [1]
Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Fluff and Crack, Hannibal is tired, Hannibal's nervous, I Don't Even Know, I Had A Lot Of Fun With This, M/M, Out of Character Hannibal Lecter, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sassy Will Graham, flirty Hannibal & Will, hannibal's not a cannibal, kinda domestic, that ain't changin' - Freeform, what are you doing hannibal?, will graham is being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24562195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCourtJester485/pseuds/TheCourtJester485
Summary: Hannibal's enjoying his sleep when he hears Will outside-he's overslept on their day out! Panic and fluff ensues...
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Hannigraham One-shots! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775353
Comments: 7
Kudos: 105





	Hannibal's Overslept!

Hannibal’s arm stretches further beneath the pillows with one side of his face firmly pressed against the case coverings, his clean shaven chin mashing against his bicep. Upon resettling from a near dreamless slumber, his eyes roll blearily beneath the lids while a hazy glow blankets over them from the sunlight peaking through the curtains. From outside there’s a satisfying crunch of tires trailing up the stone-riddled driveway. _Who could that be_ _this early_ _?_ he ponders, still teetering on the edge of sleep. His mind quickly sharpens-forcing back the tiredness, his head shoots up; his fluffy, honey brown hair looks unkempt as it stands upright from the static. Throwing off the covers he _dashes_ over to the nearby window in a single bound to peer through the plum-purple drapery: what graces the scene is enough to replace his suspicion with sheer bewilderment,

“ _Will?”_ he utters to himself, concealed behind the covering, “Why is–he’s not due until ten...” he swivels round on his heel and reaches out for the alarm clock.

_10.03am…_

His brow raises, mouth falling open in protest. Even listening close for the monotonous ticking in case the batteries died last night ( _nope_ –they're working just fine). Dropping it on the bed, a hand rakes through his hair while contemplating, unsure of how to proceed. He needs to think _fast_. The smack of a car door snaps his focus back to the window.

He see's Will standing outside at the foot of his car, bungling his keys into his pant pocket. He slides the caramel frames of his glasses up the bridge of his nose ahead of approaching the house…

Wasting no time, Hannibal _leaps_ across the unmade bed as if his fire alarms wailing in the late hours of the night in efforts to grab his day clothes from the night-stand and–wait, where the _hell_ are they? Panic is quick to nestle within his chest, bare of nothing but skin. Scanning the unfamiliar emptiness of the room, he’s lost as to where he could have left them; he’s quick to blame last nights festivities.

It’s rare he overdoes it on the wine. However, Jack dropped by unexpectedly, though he wasn’t alone. He’d brought over an extra strong whiskey to celebrate Hannibal’s recent move and both downed it quicker than they’d realized. Once Jack went on his way, he’d relieved himself of his three piece suit, slipped into a pair of burgundy pyjama pants and collapsed onto the welcoming comforts of fresh cotton sheets (forgetting to sort himself out for the next day) and fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

The _one_ morning he’s going out for breakfast with Will… He oversleeps… Why?

He trips up when there’s a knock at the front door. There’s no way in Dante's hell he’s answering in this state–it’s unprofessional, improper, even downright _embarrassing_ for someone like him; well, for most people he gathers. Hurrying into the bathroom he rubs at his shin, uttering little curses in Lithuanian as he flattens down the locks atop his head in efforts to neaten himself up in the mirror.

Another knock. Louder this time.

He hears his name being called through the glass of the door in the opposite room. Throwing on his slacks and dress shirt, his phone goes off. Heading over to grab it, he clears his throat before answering, "Yes–”

“Are you home? I’m starting to suspect I’ve got the wrong house...” he says.

The sound of Will’s voice warms his chest. He thinks of an excuse as he slides on his loafers, “No, no, you’re here. I was just in the shower–”

“The shower? I thought you’d of done that already,” he remarks with a chuckle, “well, if you’re decent could you let me in?”

“Of course, just give me a moment.”

They hang up. Heading to the door, Hannibal fumbles with his tie, not having time for a waistcoat. Will’s silhouette appears blurry through the glass. An easement of breath passes through him, slowing his heart rate back to relative normalcy. Will stands facing opposite him once it's finally opened.

“Good morning, Will. Shall we go?”

The younger man turns, instantly making a face nothing short of entertained: his mouth forms a wide and toothy smile, revealing his canines, “I’m sorry–” he laughs, “–I think I _have_ got the wrong house. Would you mind directing me to Hannibal Lecter’s residence?”

“Will, I assure you–”

“Admit it, you just woke up didn’t you?”

Realizing he has a point he nods once in defeat. Will laughs again, though not mockingly at him. He guides his friend into the kitchen and prepares them both coffee, a _strong_ coffee... The entire time, Will couldn’t stop reminding how he’s never seen him this out of sorts before. Taking a seat on the bar stool he says, “Do you normally greet your guests like this?”

“How do you mean?”

“You want me to spell it out for you?” he smirks, “For starters, you _never_ ditch your fancy suits–”

“It’s hot.” he counters.

“ _And_ your tie’s tied all wrong.”

Glancing up at him, the corners of Hannibal’s cupids bow raises ever so slightly, just enough that one can miss it if not paying close enough attention. It’s of no surprise to him that Will’s eager in his tenacity to prove his point, no doubt conjuring up plenty more to sass him with until long after the days end–typical Will; but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He pushes the man a coffee across the island top, both taking a swig of their own before Will abruptly props himself back onto his feet. He’s not wearing a jacket today. That being the main difference in his look–other than that he’s still dressed in his usual flannel, today a navy blue with the sleeves rolled up, matching well with his asphalt slacks and work boots, wearing them well as always. His stubble is a little thicker than usual but not by much. It’s unfortunate he’s obstructed those wonderful eyes with his glasses, though.

He strolls around the island to Hannibal, raising his hands to meet the tie hanging awkwardly around his neck, “Let me?” he asks, lowly.

“Be my guest.”

He savours this moment with Will, at first staying completely silent while he works. His hand perches on the edge of the counter-top and is asked to tilt up his head a bit: he obliges of course. Will unfolds the shirt collar and loosens the tie ahead of evening it out, _correctly_ this time. Knitting his brows together he fails to conceal a grin which Hannibal is quick to notice.

“Something amusing you?”

Will hums dismissively, “No, not at all.”

“Are you certain?” he says, lowering his head just enough to be a nuisance.

“Hannibal, don’t be pain the ass.” raising his chin back up with two fingers.

He takes delight in the charming wit of Will’s tone. The scent of various dogs and pine still lingering beneath that atrocious aftershave distracts him momentarily. Given their closeness, some of the man’s curls brush against his chin, they’re soft and smelling of lightly roasted walnuts. Almost finished, his collar is folded back over, Will even smooths it out for him afterwards.

“Better?”

“Better, thank you.”

Before either moves away, their eyes meet and hover for a little longer than they should; the midnights of Will’s contrasting with the deep maroons of his own and Hannibal’s gaze unintentionally drops down to his lips. After a quiet moment, they separate; both returning to their coffees, though he notices a faint rouge colouring Will’s cheeks. A part of him wonders how much longer they can keep this flirtation going. They don’t say much else besides the plan for this morning. Both of them nursing their coffee mugs and breathing in the bitter richness of the contents–simply enjoying one another's company. Almost domestic. When they’ve finished, Hannibal grabs his keys and holds the door for him on the way out.

They don’t need to fret over the time, it’s still early enough for breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Okay, this is super ooc but it was a helluva lot of fun to type-up, I hope you found it as funny reading it as I did writing it.


End file.
